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"You had better go home and put that pistol away, or you may get

into trouble," said Dorian, turning on his heel and going slowly

down the street.

James Vane stood on the pavement in horror. He was trembling from

head to foot. After a little while, a black shadow that had been

creeping along the dripping wall moved out into the light and

came close to him with stealthy footsteps. He felt a hand laid on

his arm and looked round with a start. It was one of the women

who had been drinking at the bar.

"Why didn't you kill him?" she hissed out, putting haggard face

quite close to his. "I knew you were following him when you

rushed out from Daly's. You fool! You should have killed him. He

has lots of money, and he's as bad as bad."

"He is not the man I am looking for," he answered, "and I want no

man's money. I want a man's life. The man whose life I want must

be nearly forty now. This one is little more than a boy. Thank

God, I have not got his blood upon my hands."